


Leave Fearlessness on Your Sleeve

by indevan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, F/M, Found Families, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Mental Health Issues, Saving the World, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: Enormous ape-like monsters strike at night and so the government responded with the Saiyan program: super soldiers injected with a serum to help fight against them





	1. Chapter 1

It was a quiet night in the restaurant.  Chi-Chi didn’t mind it. In a few short weeks, the holiday rush would start so she reveled in the current lull.  She didn’t have to run around to four different tables who wanted fifteen different things all at once. She could simply do her side work and prepare the opening crew for the next day as best she could.  The other closers always asked her why she bothered even though it was their job, but she couldn’t stand not being prepared. Couldn’t stand leaving others in the lurch.

“You’re good to go, Chi-Chi,” the owner told her.

She sighed.  How could she say that at a time like this?

“The sugar caddies aren’t fully stocked.”

She waved her off. “I’m sure they’ll survive.  Go on home. Curfew’s in an hour you know.”

The owner had an apartment in the back of the restaurant and so she never had to worry about being at work past curfew.  Chi-Chi glanced at her watch, wary of the time, but saw that she was right. Lucky for her, she lived a short walk from the restaurant.  That was, after all, why she had initially applied here in the first place. She had a car and the ability to drive it but traffic, even a short distance, was tricky in the city and, more than that, it was a car she had bought herself without her father’s insistence.  It was such a lemon that she was surprised that it didn’t laugh at her half of the time she tried to start it.

She took her coat from the back and stood in the entrance of the restaurant to put it on.  She pulled her hat from the pocket of her peacoat and removed the scarf and gloves she had tucked in there when she had arrived.  Winter didn’t initially begin for another three weeks but it was getting cold quickly in the city, especially at night. Chi-Chi waited until she was adequately bundled up before she bade the owner farewell and stepped into the blustery night.

There had already been snowfall the previous week but it had warmed enough that most of it had melted.  She could make out the ghostly clumps of filthy snow piled on the curbs but even that was diminishing by the day.  She hoped that they could last another couple of weeks before the snow began in earnest.

Chi-Chi began her walk to her apartment, keeping her back close to her as she walked.  With her other hand, she fished her phone out of her coat pocket and checked it for the first time since arriving at work.  Unlike nearly everyone else, she never had her phone out on the floor and so often missed texts and messages from her friends.  She wagered that it was fine because what was she going to miss? Another meme from Goku that made little sense but he claimed made him “laugh for five full minutes.”

Her cheeks burned a little at the thought of him, but she tamped it down.  Goku was her  _ friend _ (as he often stated) and she had long learned that that was all they were ever going to be.

Sure enough, she entered her passcode with the tip of her nose and saw that she had fifteen texts from him.  Goku was never afraid to double text and send slews of messages. She waited for the light to turn at the street corner and glanced over the images and emojis he sent to the group chat between the two of them and their other friend, Krillin.  The light changed and she stepped off of the curb, keeping a wary eye as she walked. She wasn’t in a terrible part of time and it wasn’t late, but it was dark early and she was the first to admit she was a bit naive, but she wasn’t foolish.

The messages could wait until she got home, anyway.  Chi-Chi continued her walk until she saw the familiar flickering streetlight that was outside her apartment.  The apartment complex had a little gate that kept out literally no one and she had to walk through the courtyard that was maybe darling and beautiful in a past life but now was nothing but an expanse of scrubby, dead grass and cracked concrete with an empty fountain guarded by a headless cupid statue and a water-weathered fish (or maybe it was a bird?).  But it was hers and she could afford to live there by herself. She let herself into her apartment because someone decades ago thought apartments that faced the elements rather than being carefully enclosed in a building with hallways was a good idea. Goku’s apartment was in such a building but it was “historic” and had an elevator that you had to open a gate to enter after the doors slid open and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Chi-Chi preferred her little apartment to the ostentatiousness of that.  Once inside (and with her door firmly bolted), she took her gloves off to properly scroll through her messages.  As she suggested, it was nothing but things he saw that he thought were funny. She began to respond to the most recent message when the sirens began to blare.  Chi-Chi put her phone on the table. Well, she could reply later. Goku most definitely wouldn’t see it now.

She looked at her phone and then crossed to her window to look into the dimly lit courtyard.  The nearest sirens were on the street corner, by the convenience store she passed on her way to work.  The sound carried, though, and one was enough to alert five blocks, at least. She shivered a bit and walked back to her phone.  She unlocked it once more and opened the message chain from Goku that wasn’t part of their group chat.

**(You):** _Heard the sirens.  Good luck!_

Chi-Chi closed her eyes after she sent it and rested her phone on her forehead.  She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to say she needed him back alive. Wanted to say she loved him in case he didn’t.  But she didn’t. Thinking about the reality of it was too much. Better to watch it sensationalized on the television where it felt like a movie rather than reality.  Her phone buzzed and she looked to see a response from Goku. It was a series of emojis followed by “Thanks Cheech!” She drew in a deep breath and then exhaled. Always so positive.  She put her phone back on the table and went to get her winter wear up on the pegs that hung near the door. She didn’t look at her phone as she walked past it to the bathroom.

She stepped out of her work shoes and flexed her feet on the fluffy bath rug before taking off of her work clothes.  Chi-Chi knew she only had a finite amount of time to spend in the shower washing the smell of food off before the hot water ran cold so she washed up as quickly as possible.  She changed into pajamas and walked back into her tiny living room that was just big enough for the boxy old television and burnt orange corduroy loveseat. She settled on one of the lumpy cushions while she brushed her damp hair and reluctantly put the news on.  The feed was live downtown and a reporter’s voice spoke over the action unfolding. Chi-Chi’s hand stilled mid-brush.

The footage was difficult to see because of the darkness and the dazzling streetlights, but she knew enough by know to guess what was going on.  Every now and then she would see a massive hand swing like a wrecking ball into a (hopefully evacuated) building. No one knew where the apes came from except that they came at any hour, but preferred the night time.  Full moon nights were even more to their liking. They mostly appeared in the same parts of the city, too, which did well for evacuations and keeping civilian casualties as low as possible. Chi-Chi didn’t try to pretend to get the logistics of it.

She saw a flurry of movement on the screen and the reporter let out an audible sigh of relief.

_ “It seems we’re in luck...the Saiyans have arrived.” _

Chi-Chi brought the brush down and let it sit on her lap, too distracted to keep brushing.  The feed was still dark and dizzying to watch but eventually she spotted him. Running between the great beast’s legs was Goku: her childhood friend, her unrequited crush, and a member of the Saiyans, an elite group of Super Soldiers deployed by the government.

\--

Goku didn’t pretend understand where the apes came from.  He wasn’t a scientist and he was barely a soldier. They were called Super Soldiers but none of them were in the military.  They were volunteers, really, who were willing to be guinea pigs to try and protect people. At least, that was what drew him to it.  Ten years ago, an attack from an ape--the most destructive ever, they claimed--destroyed his parents’ house. He knew they were lucky since so many died that night, but he could never get the image out of his head of his mother sobbing in the remains of their little house after it all.

Tonight, he had been eating dinner in a diner when the sirens blared.  He had left without paying, but the owner had recognized him. Nearly everyone did.  Even so, as he dodged the mighty beast’s swinging arms, he made a mental note to go back and pay his bill.

“You aren’t focusing.”

Vegeta’s voice sounded peeved when it crackled through his earpiece.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“You won’t be apologizing when you’re dead and no longer my problem.”

He knew he didn’t mean it--not really.  Maybe. He probably didn’t mean it. Goku rolled deftly to get out of the way of its fist as it crashed down on an abandoned car.  He winced, hoping the owner had insurance. Everyone had to at this point, right?

He sprang to his feet and cursed at himself for starting so low.  He  _ knew _ that the eyes were a weak point and here he was playing an ant to this thing’s fists.  Maybe Vegeta was right. He had to focus.

“Go for the tail,” his brother’s voice said in his ear. “Whoever’s closest.  Pull it.”

Pull its tail?  Goku didn’t get it.  What would that do other than annoy it?  And what did Raditz know about that? He was in the same clueless boat as Goku, wasn’t he?

“Pull its tail?” Turles’s voice was full of laughter so loud it made his earpiece crackle enough for Goku to wince again. “What next, Radi?  Blow spitballs at it?”

“Shut your hole and trust me, okay?”

He couldn’t argue that.  He knew from experience that Raditz could be very bossy when he wanted to be.  Goku squinted against the night sky and tried to get a handle on his own location.  He was at the ape’s front and if he wanted to do what his brother said, he would have to dash between its legs and he wasn’t keen on that.

“I got it.”

“Ayy, Broly!” Turles cried. “Let us know if you need back up.  I’m demo-ing up near this thing’s nasty fucking ears.”

The ape stilled and its arms drooped.  It slumped forward and Goku had to avoid its heavy, hairy shoulder slamming into the pavement.  He looked to see Broly holding the tail in his arms. His feet were braced on the ground while he leaned back, holding the tail.

“Boom-boom!”

A portion of the empty building next to them blew up, searing a hole in the ape’s side.  Had it not fallen forward, it probably would have hit it in the face, but damage was damage.  Goku could feel its hot breath and nearly gagged at the putrid smell. He knew, though, that that meant that he was close to the head.  Since he had come straight from the restaurant, he was effectively unarmed but he was nothing if not inventive. He quickly spotted a twisted bit of metal from the building lying on the pavement.  It had either been from the damage made by Turles’s bombs or from the ape itself. Either way, he now had something to work with.

Knowing he had little time, Goku snatched it up and ran towards the ape.

“Keeping holding, Broles,” Raditz said. “I’ll--”

_ “I’ll,” _ Vegeta corrected. “I have a straight shot of the eye from where I am.”

“Me too!” Goku reported, far too loudly, as if he was yelling to where they were located.

He lifted his makeshift weapon and rammed it down into the red eye of the ape.  It bellowed in anger but he kept pushing. At that same moment, Vegeta struck. He dropped down from wherever he had been and landed fist-first into the ape’s eyes.  Gore sprayed up into the air, shooting from the point of impact.

It let out one last bellow before lying still.  Goku didn’t quite trust that and twisted the bit of metal for good measure.  He looked up to see Vegeta pull his arm out of the ape’s eye and scowl at the blood and viscera covering it.  It glistened in the glow of the streetlight.

“I killed it,” they said at the same time.

Vegeta glared at him, dark eyes catching the lights. “No, you didn’t.  I killed it.”

Goku shook his head. “Nope.  I already made the killing blow when you jumped.”

“Bullshit.  You injured it.  I--”

“Neither of you would have had that option if Broly hadn’t pulled on its tail,” Turles said to cut off a fight. “Good job, Broles.”

Goku looked to where the tallest member of their squad stood, still holding the tail.  He dropped it and it landed with a muted thump on the pavement.

“Thanks.”

“How’d you know about the tail thing anyway, Radi?”

Goku waited for his brother’s voice to come over their commlink but instead he jumped down from wherever he had been hiding and shrugged.

“One of the scientists at base told me to try it.  Glad it worked.”

Vegeta glared at him. “Try it?  You said to trust you and you didn’t know it would work.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders and said, “Broly did trust me and it did.”

Broly had walked over in this meantime and smiled a bit down at his feet.  A wild whoop filled the air and Turles jumped down from where he had been hiding.

“We have to find a better place than the eyes,” he said. “I can’t keep demo-ing buildings, y’know?”

He grinned broadly, eyes twinkling in the dim light.  That was a side effect of the injections they each took three times a week.  They gained better vision at night in order to better combat the apes and it left them with glowing eyes.  More than once, he had freaked Krillin out when they passed each other in the darkness on the way to the bathroom.

“It’s better than trying to saw through their hides.”

Raditz turned to look down at the dead ape and Goku saw his brother shudder.

“The tail thing helps,” Broly said.

Goku nodded in agreement.  He heard feet on the pavement and he turned to see the approaching press.

“Fuck,” Vegeta growled.  He was holding his filthy arm to his chest and wore his usual scowl on his face. “They made it through the barricade.”

Turles cracked a grin and slung an arm around Goku’s shoulders since he happened to be closest.

“C’mon.  Don’t you want to talk to our adoring public?” He aimed that grin at the four of them.

“No.”

“Nope.”

“Fuck no.”

“I think I got ape guts in my hair.”

Turles sighed and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe that he was stuck with any of them.

“Unbelievable, all of you.”

Goku shrugged, but he knew that it was too late to turn tail and beat it now, right?  He looked to see that Vegeta and Broly were both gone.

_ Or not. _

He turned back just in time to see a microphone thrust under his chin.

“Uh...hi?”

\--

“Uh...hi?”

Chi-Chi breathed a sigh of relief when the footage cut from the feed of the battle to an interview.  She wasn’t sure how the news crews got the footage when the military set up a barricade around whatever area the apes appeared in.  Maybe they used a drone or something. Either way, she was so glad to see Goku’s face onscreen and saw that he was seemingly uninjured.

He grinned goofily but she knew him enough to see that he was nervous.  Turles was behind him, saying something to another reporter and she spotted his brother Raditz on his other side, wearing a similar wary smile.  She wasn’t surprised to see that Broly and Vegeta bailed. She was sure that the higher-ups at base were happy, too. She knew, from Goku, that they were using their popularity to help keep the public at ease and make them feel safe and good when they showed up.  Vegeta’s caustic and blunt manner in interviews harmed that image.

Chi-Chi turned off her TV after she saw his face--his stupidly handsome face--because she didn’t need to see the interview.  She just needed the confirmation that he was okay.

She snatched her phone off of the table and carried it with her to her bedroom.  She was off the next day, but she set her alarm anyway. She wasn’t one to while away the day in bed.  Goku was. Even with his strict schedule, he still found excuses to sleep in.

She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him.  Goku had been her friend as a child--they had even been “married” on the playground with a tied dandelion stem serving as ring.  Then the attack from ten years ago. She had been in high school when it happened, and had moved to a different, “nicer” part of town.  Up until then, she had still gone to the same school, still saw Goku every day. But when his house was destroyed, he had moved somewhere else and she didn’t see him again until years later when they bumped into each other at a coffee shop.

He had looked so handsome, all grown up, but still with that sweet, sunshine smile and they had reconnected, become friends.

And she had fallen in love.

Of course then he had to go and volunteer to be an experiment in some military program and now she had to deal with her definitely unrequited feelings and also fear for his life.

She was settling into bed, trying to get her thoughts to still, when her phone lit up and began to buzz.  Chi-Chi squinted at the bright screen in the dark as she looked to see who was calling. Goku’s name and contact photo looked back at her.  She scrambled to sit up and quickly answered the call.

“Did I wake you?”

He sounded breathless.

“No,” she said, but then said, “I had just gotten into bed.”

“Oh, my bad.”

“How’d you get away from the reporters?”

“Pawned them off on Turles and my brother and ‘excused myself.’”

She heard him chuckle on the other line and she imagined him briskly walking back to the apartment he and Krillin shared.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Me too.” Another laugh.  A pause and then, “Okay, I’ll let you go to sleep, Cheech.  I just. I like hearing your voice after a battle, I guess. G’night.”

Before she could begin to process that statement with little more than a stammered, “G-good night,” Goku had hung up.  She looked at her phone for a moment before putting it on the nightstand. He liked hearing her voice after a battle.

What did that mean?

\--

“You can make an effort, you know.”

Vegeta knew he would regret answering the phone when he got to his apartment.

“It won’t kill you.”

He drew in a breath through his nose and counted to ten like the therapist his father sent him to in middle school told him to before exhaling through his mouth.

“And you berating me about this couldn’t wait until the debriefing tomorrow?” he asked irritably.

He heard a slight giggle on the other line and knew that Bulma was smiling deviously.  She kept tabs on all of them--being the doctor that administered the serum to them three days a week--but she seemed to particularly like torturing him.  Maybe it was because she  _ thought _ she got under his skin, when all she did was be mildly irritating  _ at best. _

“Nope.  C’mon, do  _ one _ news spot and I’ll lay off you for a month.”

He scowled and crossed to his sink to get a glass of water.  He thought that making them out to be celebrities or rock stars was asinine.  He did his job, that was all. He killed apes because he was good at it--the best, even if that “best” was out of five people.  Why did he have to court the press like an actor supporting a movie?

“No,” he said after he drained his glass.

“God, you’re impossible.”

“I try.”

Bulma let out a frustrated cry on the other line and he pulled the phone away from his ear as he did.  The serum gave him enhanced senses, but even without his sensitive hearing, Bulma’s cries were intense.

“Whatever,” she said after a moment. “Just show up bright and early, okay?  Debriefing and injection day.”

As if he didn’t know.  Vegeta scowled even though she couldn’t see him.

“I hope you have a second doctor on hand to peel Kakarrot off the ceiling.”

Bulma laughed.  He wondered, briefly, if she was in her lab or actually at home for once.  Vegeta knew she kept the dumbest hours, sometimes staying all night to perfect the serum that gave them their powers.  She said there were always improvements to be made, but part of him wondered if she felt the same manic pull he did to stay up at all hours.  But asking her that would imply that they were friends.

“I don’t know why he didn’t think it’d be injections,” she said. “How else would we get it in your bloodstreams?”

“Inhalation?”

“Ew, no.  You all are  _ not _ vaping serum.”

Vegeta snorted a laugh despite himself.  Sometimes she could be funny. Sometimes.  When she wasn’t getting on his nerves.

“You did good,” she said after the moment of mirth passed. “You didn’t have time to get a weapon here and you improvised.”

He leaned against his counter, unsure what to do with the praise.

“I did what I had to,” he said back, trying not to sound awkward.

“And you fisted that eye but good.”

There it was.  She couldn’t go a moment without being bawdy, could she?  He groaned and used his free hand to rub at his temple.

“If that’s all, I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” Bulma said between laughter, “Get some sleep.  See you tomorrow.”

He grunted a response and ended the call.  He was exhausted and Bulma hadn’t even waited for him to finish getting out of the shower before she called and he only just realized that, standing in his towel in the kitchen of the apartment, he wasn’t cold.  Was that a side effect from the serum? He didn’t know much about it. None of them did. Vegeta frowned down himself, noting how he didn’t even have goosebumps from the cold. Maybe that was a mistake or maybe the government did that on purpose.

He closed his fist and walked to his room.  It was too late to think on it too much. He just wanted to sleep off the battle.

Everything: the injections, the debriefing--it could wait until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Goku hated coming to the base for injection days.  He knew, though, that if they gave them their own vials of the serum that he would never inject it on his own volition and his body would deteriorate.  Even so, the fact that he had to  _ go somewhere _ to get it done just ramped up his anxiety.  He fidgeted in his seat on the table as the five of them waited for the doctors to arrive.

He had barely paid attention during the debriefing.  Vegeta and his brother had talked most out of all of them, since Raditz was the one who had brought up the tail weakness and Vegeta was taking credit for the kill.  Goku thought that was unfair since he, at the very least, helped, but he had learned early on that sometimes it was just easier to let Vegeta have his way.

Dr. Planthor walked in, smiling in that Santa Claus-meets-someone’s-grandpa sort of way trailed by Dr. Briefs--or Dr. Bulma as they called her since her father also worked at the base and she was their own age.  She stood by with a clipboard and waved a bit with the hand that held a pen. Goku knew that she was the one responsible for synthesizing the serum initially even though there were now a crew of scientists who worked on perfecting it.

“I daresay you boys had quite a tussle last night, didn’t you?” Dr. Planthor asked.

He already had his stethoscope in his ears and he paused to press it against Broly’s back.

“Deep breath and hold it, Mr. Brassica.”

Goku blinked a moment--Brassica?  Wasn’t that one of the other doctors?  The one who worked on perfecting the serum to enhance their abilities?  Hmm. He studied Broly’s impassive features and realized that he didn’t really know much about him.  Didn’t know much about Vegeta, either. Turles and Raditz were easy. Raditz, of course, was his brother and Turles had been their friend and neighbor their whole lives.  His house had also been leveled in the attack and he and his grandmother had moved to the same apartment building they had afterwards.

“Good, good.”

Goku watched him work his way down the line methodically.  They always left him for last, but he wished sometimes that he could go first and get it out of the way.  He hadn’t thought about injections and needles when he had volunteered for the Saiyan program. He only thought of helping those in need.  Of protecting the city.

“Any questions, guys?” Bulma asked.

“What are the side effects?” Vegeta’s voice was gruff and she looked surprised as if she didn’t expect any of them to actually ask anything.

Goku felt his brow crinkle.  They knew the side effects didn’t they?  Enhanced strength, speed, and durability.  Heightened senses. At the expense of a little pain at the site of injection and initial dizziness after a dosage.

“Side effects?” she repeated.

“I was in my towel yesterday after my shower and I wasn’t cold.  My apartment’s thermostat said it was sixty-five degrees.”

Bulma looked concerned for a moment before giving a soft laugh.

“Oh, you just wanted us to picture you in a towel.”

He made a grumpy face and Goku stifled a laugh.  Dr. Planthor cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced between them.  This wasn’t new--Bulma always liked flustering Vegeta. She didn’t razz the rest of them like that but when they weren’t arguing, she was making the tips of his ears go red.  If he didn’t know better, Goku would reckon that they were engaged in a bizarre and oddly high school courtship, but he didn’t really concern himself with such things.

Hearing Vegeta talk about the cold thing, though, that caught him.  After hearing him say it, he realized that last night when he had bolted to the battle, he hadn’t bothered with his coat and hadn’t even felt it.

“I’ve noticed that, too,” Raditz said as Broly nodded.

Bulma tapped her chin and then scribbled something down on her clipboard.

“I’ll look into it.”  She tried to hide it, but he could hear a note of concern in her voice.

Goku screwed his mouth to the side and tried to ignore it to bring up more pressing matters after what Vegeta brought up.

“Could there be other side effects?” he asked. “Like...could we be rendered impotent?”

Turles snorted a laugh and Vegeta dropped his head into his hands.  Dr. Planthor gave a chuckle and shook his head.

“Oh, no.  You turned out fine, didn’t you?”

“I what?”

A strange look passed over his face. “I mean, you’ve been fine, haven’t you?”

Goku didn’t have time to wonder what that meant because the others were laughing again.

“I have!” Turles said with a loud laugh.

Dr. Planthor tapped his shoulder lightly with his stethoscope.

“That means you continue to wrap it up, Mr. Karp.”

Turles pretended to look offended. “I’m a bottom!”

Raditz and Bulma laughed while Vegeta rolled his eyes and Dr. Planthor sighed down towards the floor.  Goku hid his own smile behind his hand only because he knew that injections were coming soon.

\--

Lapis Gero paused the video and picked up his pen to scribble a note in his journal.  He would later type it up but he found it easier to write down his observations rather than switching between windows to type it out.  He kind of hated the drone-mounted cameras that flew around the battleground of an ape attack, but their recorded data allowed him to study the battles more easily than before when it was a lot of guesswork and going from verbal retellings.

The tail thing worked, for which he was glad.  He would have felt bad if he suggested it and then it failed.  They needed to do something about the eyes, though. They had to have another weakness.  Something they could use. Lapis tapped his lower lip with the pen and sighed. This ape was a bit tougher to take down, too, despite the Saiyans training harder than ever.  That seemed to denote that they were getting stronger. They were certainly getting bigger. Just watching the video, he clocked this one at nearly four stories tall. The tallest yet.

Lapis scribbled down his concern and then scratched the shell of his ear.  Sometimes he wondered why they even had him doing ape research. The government seemed more intent on just going from battle to battle, flying by the seat of their pants and allowing the Saiyans to deal with it.  They had zero plan on how to stop them completely or where they came from. It was troubling. Or maybe that was because he never cared for authority. He was only here because he published an article online and Bulma Briefs had come to the island where he worked as a park ranger to recruit him as a researcher.

He unpaused the video and watched until the end.  It was hard to tell which blow to the eye actually killed it but he could see some kind of working strategy that didn’t involve Turles’s bombs.  The tail and having it fall--they could use that.

“Ugh, I look so bad.”

Lapis paused the video and turned his head sharply.  He had left the door to his office in the lab open for this reason, but he was still surprised that he didn’t hear Raditz come in.  He wasn’t exactly a quiet or subtle person, being nearly six and a half feet tall, built like a linebacker, and with hair past his waist.  Yet he had snuck up on him.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, recovering as best he could. “The camera loves you.”

“Hmph.”

Raditz sank into the chair next to him and lifted the plastic bag he was holding up onto his lap.  Lapis could already smell the food within and his mouth. As was often the case when he lost himself in his research, he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Thanks for the intel on the tail thing,” Raditz said.  He reached into the bag and pulled out a wrapped burrito. “It really helped.”

He shrugged because there wasn’t much else he could say that didn’t sound full of himself.  He wasn’t sure why he reined him some of his nastier personality traits around Raditz, but he did.  He accepted the burrito handed to him and started to peel back the foil.

“Roasted poblano peppers and cheese,” Raditz reported. “Only the best for my veggie buddy.”

Lapis chanced a slight smile.  There  _ was _ something endearing about him.  Something that made him look forward to their little lunchtime get togethers in his office.  He didn’t really have any friends in this city other than his sister so it was nice to interact with another person.

“Thank you.”

Raditz nodded as he unwrapped his own burrito.  It was nearly twice the size of Lapis’s and bursting with beef and cheese.  He wasn’t sure if his appetite was because of the serum or not, but his portions were always far bigger than his own.

“I wish we could find an easier way to kill them,” he said, mouth full. “You figure something out yet?”

Lapis noticed that he had a bit of sour scream on the tip of his nose and he was filled with the compulsion to lick it off.  He stamped it down and simply shook his head.

“Not yet.  But if I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

\--

The snow at the old playground hadn’t quite melted and Kale could kick at the slush with her boots while she waited for Caulifla to spend the right amount of drama before she announced why she asked her and Cabba here.  The playground was reserved only for important get togethers, as it had been since they were children. It was their favorite place, even as it fell into disrepair. At this time of year, parents didn’t bring their children so it was theirs even more.

Kale pulled her hood up even though she was already wearing a knit hat and shivered.  It was getting colder and the sky was silver and bloated with the promise of snow. Cabba bounced from foot to foot, holding himself and chattering his teeth.  The cold didn’t bother Kale all that much but she could still feel it biting through her parka and gloves.

“So,” Caulifla began.

She rose up from the swing she had been sitting on and plucked at a loose thread in her wool gloves.  Kale watched her move, committing little movements to memory. She knew Caulifla’s body language like her own and knew that she was holding back something big.

“I’m joining the Saiyan program,” she said finally. “They’re looking for recruits.”

Kale felt alarm ripple through her body and felt chilled down to the bone.

“What?” she asked quietly.

“Me too,” Cabba said. “I saw that, too.  The recruit thing.”

She looked between them both, wondering if this was a joke.  Caulifla  _ hated _ authority and Cabba was a pacifist.  What  _ was _ this?  Didn’t they have any idea?

“My parents died in the attack ten years ago,” she said, “and my brother was injured and...they’re being utter shits at filing his disability papers and the money will help and.  I want revenge, okay?”

She spoke as if she had been rehearsing defending her motives and Kale couldn’t believe it.  She felt herself shake in a way that had nothing to do with the weather.

“I want to protect people,” Cabba said. “The Saiyans do that.  So…”

“No,” she said quietly. “It’s bad.  Don’t do it.”

They looked at her, weighed her opinion, and then Caulifla put her hands gently on her shoulders.

“I can’t just sit by,” she said. “It isn’t just about revenge.  It’s about stopping other kids from becoming orphans.”

Caulifla’s dark eyes were soft in the harsh weather, and Kale felt her insides melt.  She wanted to lash out and tell her “no.” She knew what it was like--sort of. It was bad, but.  Caulifla was her best friend. She would follow her into hell, wouldn’t she? But would she follow her into this?

“Caulifla…” she murmured.

For once, it seemed like she had thought it through and it made Kale’s argument fall apart before she could even utter it.  When she was impulsive, she could talk her down from things, but this was something she had clearly been thinking about for a while.

Kale felt like there was a little hand holding her throat in a vice.  It was difficult to breathe. She pictured Caulifla crushed in the jaws of an ape, or her body mangled under its feet.  She looked at Cabba and saw him dead on the ground, bleeding into the snow. She couldn’t let that happen. Not to either of them, but especially not Caulifla.  She was her best friend--she was everything to her.

“Kale?”

She knew the dangers.  She had  _ seen _ the dangers and already lived in fear, avoiding the news whenever the sirens blared.  She would hide under her blankets and plug her ears and hope and hope…

“You can’t,” she said in a quiet, choked voice. “Please don’t.”

“Kale…”

She shook her head.  The little hand was still there and she found herself feeling dizzy and unable to get in a breath.  Her chest was tight and it felt like her heart was ripped out, just as it had before. She couldn’t deal with that again.

Kale wanted to tear away and run and hide under the little cone by the jungle gym.  No, she wanted to run all the way back home and hide under her bed just as she did as a child.  She felt like one, even though she was twenty-three.

“Kale.”

Cabba reached out towards her but, wisely, didn’t actually touch her.  She wasn’t sure what she would do when her body was tight like this, when she felt closed in and strangled.

“No!” she shouted and then put both of her mittened hands over her mouth, surprised at how strained she sounded.

Kale balled her fists and squeezed her eyes shut.  Tears stung her eyes and the blustery wind made them burn.  She opened them to look at her friends. They looked at her with dual looks of concern, but all she could think about was that she was losing them.  She was losing Caulifla.

“You’re going…” she trailed off and looked away.

“Kale, I know.  But I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

She wanted her to be selfish.  Caulifla was selfish all the time.  She never liked sharing her food, even with Kale.  She could be selfish now, couldn’t she?

“I want to,” she said, no longer speaking gently as before. “I want to protect people.”

Kale looked at her, at her standing there all incandescent beauty and fire, and knew there was no dissuading her.  She was going to sign up and she was going to be injected with that serum and fight and possibly die. Kale bit her lip and stared down at her boots.  Maybe she could have someone look after her...maybe…

A thought crept into her mind, unbidden.  If  _ she _ were there.  If she did the training, did it all.  She could protect her friends. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help other people or stop Caulifla and Cabba from doing so, but they weren’t heeding the dangers.  But then there was the thought. If she were there--but could she do anything? She was constantly wracked by indecision and fear and yet she wanted to throw herself into this for what?  For Caulifla.

“Okay…” she said in a shaky voice.

Kale knew she wasn’t thinking this through and it was terrible, but she couldn’t live with herself having to sit by on the sidelines and watch again.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Ehh?” Caulifla took a step in and gently took her hands.  Kale could feel the warmth seep through the wool of her glove. “You don’t have to.”

“No.  I do.”

Did she?  Kale didn’t want to be dogged by this indecision like she was so often.  She could do this, if only to keep close to her friends. The rest of the ramifications could wait--couldn’t they?

Caulifla squeezed her hands and smiled broadly.  With a whoop, she held her close and then opened her arm for Cabba to join in.  Kale was smushed between her two friends, feeling their warmth, and wondering if she made the right decision.

\--

Bulma felt a headache forming the moment she stepped into her lab.  It would be one thing if Dr. Brassica or one of the other scientists ever helped her but, no!  She had to be a “prodigal genius” who could do things on her own.

Or nearly on her own, which was the cause of her headache.

Chirai and Jaco were crouched over one of the lab tables, watching something on one of their phones while sharing a pair of earbuds.  Bulma guessed by the cutesy, pastel case that it was Jaco’s.

“Here comes her speech,” Chirai said.

“Didn’t she throw up afterwards?” Jaco asked.

“Yeah, but they didn’t film it ‘cause they aren’t that kind of reality show.”

He bobbed his head. “God, it’s so much more dramatic than I remember.”

Chirai let out a giggle.  Bulma cleared her throat, but neither of her assistants seemed to notice.  She drew in a deep breath through her nose and exhale through her mouth like the therapist her parents sent her to as a teenager taught her to.

“Hey,” she said irritably.

Predictably there was no answer even though, technically, they each had one ear free.  Bulma did her breathing exercise again. She was lucky she really  _ could _ do most of her work alone, especially with what the boys reported at their appointment today.  Side effects were to be expected but these seemed to be developing over time. Was this due to levels of certain agents in the serum?  Was this a stacking thing?

Bulma had a lot of questions and no answers.  She dropped her clipboard loudly on one of the stainless steel tables and  _ finally _ her two, absolutely useless lab assistants looked up.  Jaco paused the show they were watching and removed the earbud from his ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. “We were in the middle of something.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Well it clearly wasn’t work.  Listen, I just got back from the Saiyans’ appointment.”

Chirai gasped and widened her eyes.

“I missed it?” she asked. “Damn.  I wanted to see Broly shirtless.”

Jaco seemed aghast. “You think  _ Broly _ is the cute one?”

She nodded. “Yeah.  He seems sweet, doesn’t he?  And he’s got the strong, silent type thing going on.”

“Unbelievable.  Kakarrot is objectively the best-looking one.”

“Nah.  He’s too wholesome-looking.  Kind of boring if you ask me.”

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose.  As much as she knew she razzed Vegeta constantly, at least she knew when to actually be serious.  Most of the time.

“Both of you be quiet.”

_ And Vegeta is hotter than both of them. _

She wasn’t sure where  _ that _ thought came from except for the fact that, because of his dumb mouth, she had had the misfortune of imagining him wearing nothing but a towel.  That, of course, reminded her of the situation at hand.

“Listen--shut up.  I need you to run tests on the most recent batch of the serum,” she told them. “The guys said they were feeling some side effects that weren’t present at first and I want to figure out why.”

Jaco pouted. “You could say please.”

“And you could say ‘fired without severance.’”

He gasped dramatically but that seemed to get him to actually move away from his phone.  Bulma was tempted to confiscate it but there was only so much authority she was willing to wield before she became one of the sisters from her high school.

While the two of them were busy, she could focus on her own work.  Before today, she had her own work to do. Data to input. The luxurious life she led as the so-called head scientist of the Saiyan Project.  Right. Dr. Brassica was really in charge and he took every opportunity to tell her that she was only here because of her father. Never mind that she proved herself time and time again.  She could stand on her own damn merits. Fucking Brassica.

Feeling doubly frustrated, Bulma began the menial task of submitting the updated vitals of the Saiyans.  Dr. Planthor was the physician but everything went directly into her research so it was easier for Bulma to input it herself.

She picked one of them at random.  Though they did injections three times a week, the check-ups were a once a week thing so she had less data to work with.  She glanced at the name to see whose data she had. As fate would have it, to add to her vexation, it was Vegeta’s. Fine.  Whatever. It was only fitting given how often she teased him. She compared his vitals and saw that his blood pressure was slightly raised from the week before.  Nothing truly notable, but it was a bit iffy. She switched to Turles’s chart and saw a similar change. A check to the remaining three proved that they all had raised blood pressure.  That didn’t mean anything.

Did it?

\--

With the general weirdness of his life, Goku was incredibly grateful for moments where he just got to be normal.  He had left base with the usual dizziness and nausea that accompanied the injection and all but fallen into the passenger seat of Krillin’s car.  He loved that his best friend wasn’t involved in this at all. Loved that he had that bit of normalcy in his apartment and outside battles.

He had recovered by the evening, popping up from his spot on their couch and saying how he was starving.  He had relayed this message over text to Chi-Chi and that was how the three of them wound up in his favorite noodle place.  The sky finally followed through on its promise to snow and he watched it fall from the window of the restaurant. It was a light snow, like something out of a movie.  It drifted prettily to the ground. He spotted Chi-Chi watching it, too. Whenever they ate out, she always wanted to sit by the window so she could look out on something bigger than where she was.  At least that was how she put.

He always gave her the window seat.

“How was it?” she asked as if she were asking how work went.

Goku paused, chopsticks raised to his mouth and let the heap of noodles fall back into his bowl.

“About the usual.”

He didn’t want to bring up the side effects or cold aversion.  He felt the heat now in the restaurant so that had to count for something, right?  He could feel the sweat gathering on his temples from the steam from his bowl. Was it just cold?  Goku bounced his leg, wanting to shake off the thoughts. He was with his two best friends. He was away from being a Saiyan.  From dealing with side effects and serum.

“Are you off tomorrow?” he asked. “Either of you.”

Krillin shook his head. “Nope.  I close.”

“I’m off,” Chi-Chi said. “I worked a mid shift today last minute so I switched with someone tomorrow.”

She smiled a bit over her bowl and placed her chopsticks on the paper napkin next to it.

“Yes!  Wanna do something?” he asked. “I think that winter art thing is going on in the park.”

He knew Chi-Chi would appreciate that.  He liked to do things she would want to do and she would repay the favor by doing things he liked.  He reckoned that they had really worked out this friendship thing. They ought to. He had known Chi-Chi for a long time.  They were technically “married,” if playground vows meant anything. Krillin, he had met in high school after they moved to the new apartment block when their home was destroyed.

Goku pushed  _ that _ memory back as well.  He would always be grateful for meeting him, but he hated thinking about the ape attack.  Hated thinking about seeing his childhood home destroyed. Hated thinking about the tiny apartment the four of them had to move into because they were given barely anything as a settlement.

“Oh, the craft and food fair?” Chi-Chi asked. “Yeah.  It’s covered, too, so we won’t have to worry about canceling for snow.”

“Food?”

Goku grinned.  He didn’t know that part.  She laughed and tucked some dark hair behind her ears.

“Sounds good,” he said.

Krillin shifted his gaze between them both, a funny look on his face.

“Anyway,” he said, “she was there today when I went to pick you up.”

“She?” Chi-Chi asked.

Goku paused to slurp some noodles noisily into his mouth before he responded.

“This woman who works at the base.  I’m not sure what she does ‘cause she isn’t one of the scientists, but Krillin has a crush on her.”

He watched his friend’s face flush.  Chi-Chi raised her eyebrows. She was very big on love.  Goku had watched enough romcoms with her to know she was already scheming on how to get them together.

“Today I said ‘hi’ and she said ‘hey.’  Then I said ‘it might snow’ and she said ‘yeah.’  Very serious stuff.” Krillin laughed at himself and then shook his head.

Goku laughed with him, feeling a truer warmth than the heat from his food and the restaurant fill him.  This was normal. He could get his mind off of side effects and injections and lose himself in a good time with his friends.  He exhaled and picked his chopsticks back up. He never really regretted his decision to volunteer to become a Saiyan, but it was during times like these--making plans with Chi-Chi, teasing Krillin--he wished that this was what his life always was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been super busy and Big Depressy for a while so it took a little bit for this chapter to come out but i'm pretty happy with it. it's basically "sibling feels" the chapter with some plot things added in

The punching bag swung wildly on its chain as Broly landed punch after punch on it.  His fists made a muted sound as they pounded into the coated canvas surface. He spun around to land a kick and the chain creaked ominously.  He stilled and stopped its swinging with both hands.

“Watching you is making me tired.”

Turles lounged languidly on the rubberized floor of the gym.  It wasn’t as if he were being lazy, he simply reacted the way that the others did after an injection.  When they pushed the serum into their bloodstreams, the resulting side effects (among the others that Bulma was looking into) were supposed to be slight nausea and dizziness.  Normally after the injections were administered, Kakarrot had one of his friends pick him up, Raditz went to talk to his scientist friend, Vegeta went somewhere to do Vegeta Things, and he and Turles went to the gym.  Turles would lie out and drink something with electrolytes and Broly--Broly felt different. He was the outlier. He felt hot all over whenever he took the serum and restless. He had to run or punch something.

He had no idea why he reacted this way when no one else did.  Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was the only technically involuntary member of the Saiyan program.  His father was the leading scientist after Bulma and so he was so kind as to volunteer him. The thought made something dwell up within him and swung his leg around to kick the bag again.  It rocked on its chain wildly despite the relatively half-hearted kick.

“Sorry,” he said after a moment.

“Don’t be.”

Turles gave him a lazy grin and Broly jerked his head away from him a bit too fast.  Something about Turles’s smile made him hot all over, but it was probably whatever fight or flight instinct the injection triggered in him.

The door to the gym opened and Broly could hear the thud of boots being absorbed by the rubberized floor.

_ Weird...these heightened senses are a damn nightmare... _

“Nappa!” Turles called in greeting. “I’d get up but I have serum vertigo.”

Broly turned to see that Nappa had indeed come through the door.  He wasn’t sure how to classify the older man. He wasn’t employed by the army and held no rank but he was in charge of their training and workouts.  He oversaw the program but wasn’t involved in it directly.

“Hi,” Broly said, inclining his chin.  He wasn’t sure what his role was but he respected Nappa.  His guidance had definitely saved them on their first field missions.

Nappa gestured to the clipboard he was carrying. “I was hoping I’d find you here.  I have a list of potential recruits I’m showing around the base tomorrow--”

“Recruits?” Turles asked.  He shakily rose to his elbows. “You mean, people willingly wanting to do this?  Damn.”

He laughed even though he had volunteered.  Broly wasn’t sure why, but he was certain that it had something to do with Raditz.

Nappa ignored him and turned to look at Broly.  He frowned despite himself, wondering why he was being scrutinized.

“What?”

“One of the recruits has the last name Brassica.  Wondered if you knew ‘em.”

Broly felt his frown deepen.  He hadn’t met anyone with the same or even a similar last name to him.  Something clenched in his chest but he willed it away. There was no way.

“What?” he repeated.

“Kale Brassica,” he read off the sheet. “Age twenty-three--”

He didn’t hear the rest of what Nappa was saying as he read from the recruitment page.  Broly felt the blood rush around his head as anger swelled in his chest. He felt hot, all of a sudden, hot all over even in the backs of his eyes and where his tongue connected in his mouth.  He wasn’t aware that he had left the gym until he was running down the hallway towards the science wing.

He burst into the lab and his father looked up, startled.

“Broly,” he said, recovering quickly. “I didn’t know you were--”

“What the fuck did you do?” he demanded.

The startled look was replaced by a knit brow and frown of confusion and Broly felt his anger rise at the nerve of it.

“What do you mean?”

“Kale!”

There was no way she would willingly sign up for this.  She had told him time and time again that she got so scared when he fought.  His father had to be behind it, manipulating her like he did him before and after the program.

“What about her?”

“She’s on the list of potential new recruits,” he said, all but spitting the words out.

As if his father didn’t know.  He felt his body go rigid with anger and, for a brief second, pictured his hands around his father’s throat.  He had never felt so angry before, never felt this flash of rage. Broly swallowed thickly, hating the way he felt.

“What?” His father’s voice was sharp with agitation. “She did what?  She won’t last. She--”

He wiped a hand over his face.

“You must have misheard.  You do that, you know.”

His fists clenched and unclenched on their own.  Broly swallowed again.

“No, Nappa came and asked me if I knew her because we had the same last name.  Kale signed up.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or was signed up.”

His father looked at him for a moment as if he wasn’t sure what he was referencing.  Then he shook his head.

“Broly, you can’t honestly think I signed her up.”

“You signed me up.”

He waved a hand dismissively at him and went back to whatever he was doing on the tablet in his hand.

“That’s different, Boly.” Under his breath, detectable to Broly’s enhanced ears, he added, “Kale never took to it, really.”

He wanted to press him for what that meant but he knew he wouldn’t get answers.  Broly watched his father and thought, for the first time, that he might actually hate him.

\--

The elevator rumbled ominously and, on instinct, Goku braced himself against one wall.  Noticing his antics, Raditz rolled his eyes.

“It’s never Tower of Terror’d us before.”

“Yeah, but you never know.  It’s always been bad since we moved here and that was over ten years ago.”

A decade--after the ape attack that devastated their old neighborhood and forced them to move to this tiny, crappy apartment.  Goku tried not to let the anger to get to him, especially after all this time, but it was awful. They lost everything but what they could get out of the house and they were given absolute garbage in return.

The elevator doors opened on their floor and Goku was hit with the memory of when it first opened for him, back in high school.  He and Raditz had been able to take the elevator with boxes of stuff that they could carry and the doors had jerkily slid open to show a narrow, poorly lit hallway with a puke green carpet and hideous, flowered wallpaper.  It was a bit better now. The carpet remained but the wallpaper had been replaced by beige paint, but. He hated it. He still missed their house. It was small and drafty, but it had been home. This apartment never was. It still wasn’t.

Raditz knocked once before using his key to open the door.  Immediately, the smell of cooking food made Goku forget his anger.  He breathed in deeply and while the apartment and the situation would never be made better and would never be home, they did their best.

“Hey!” their mom called from the kitchen. “You’re early for once.”

He ignored the jab and walked across the living room into the kitchen to give her a kiss hello.

“We’re good boys now who have to be on strict timetables,” Raditz teased.

He stopped at the couch to greet their father.  He got to his feet to meet him halfway, pulling him into a hug.  Once he pulled back, he switched places with Raditz.

“That was some fight the other day,” his father said in that drawling way of his.

“Thanks.”

It was nearly said like a proud parent talking about their kid’s homerun at Little League, but Goku knew better.  There was a slight bitterness that chased his father’s words whenever he talked about their position as Saiyans. He wasn’t happy when Goku volunteered and Raditz reluctantly followed suit.  Kept telling them to be careful.

Raditz busied himself with setting the table while Goku filled cups with water.

“So how’s Chi-Chi?” his mother asked.

Goku bobbed his head in a nod. “She’s good.  We went to this craft fair thing the other day and got a pot for her dad’s peperomia plant.”

Chi-Chi had found one that was a dusty pink color that matched its leaves and had been extremely excited.  Goku knew this because she did the thing where she clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet. He was pretty sure Chi-Chi didn’t even notice that she did it.  The potter thought they were dating, which was pretty hilarious--although Chi-Chi didn’t find it quite as funny as he did.

“Oh, so you went on a date?”

His mom came over with a prepared bowl of food and gazed at him over it.  Goku felt his brow furrow.

“No?  Ma, we’re friends.”

He placed the water cups around everyone’s set plate and sank into his seat.

“Please,” Raditz said, rolling his eyes.  He took a moment to serve himself and then added, “You two do the most coupley things and pretend you’re not dating.”

“We’re  _ friends,” _ he insisted with a shake of his head. “She and Krillin are my best friends.”

“Was Krillin there?”

“No, he had to work--don’t give me that face.”

Raditz smirked as he passed the bowl over to their father.  Goku watched him and sighed down at his still empty plate. He looked back up at his brother and gave a smirk of his own.

“What about you and that scientist at base?”

That got their mother’s attention and also earned Goku a swift kick under the table.  His serum-enhanced reflexes made him jerk his leg but not soon enough and the edge of Raditz’s boot caught his shin.

“What scientist?” their mother asked.  She put a hand on Raditz’s arm and blinked her eyes inquisitively.

“Nothing, ma.  Kakarrot’s being a little shit ‘cause I called him out.”

“Am not!”

“Boys,” their father said and then, with a grunt, “Good food, Gine.”

“Who’s this scientist?”

She wasn’t at all dissuaded by the compliment to her cooking.  Goku took the bowl and scooped some rice and meat onto his plate, glad that the heat was off him.  And why couldn’t people just lay off? Even if he--anyway, he had too much going on to even think about romance.  Especially not with one of his best friends.

“Dr. Gero,” he said. “We have lunch together.  We’re just friends.”

“Is he cute?”

“Ma!”

She hummed a bit to herself as she dug into her own food. “I’m not hearing a no.”

Raditz sighed dramatically and said, “Yeah, he’s cute.  But we’re friends. Nothing more.”

He dug into his food as if to put an end to the conversation.  Their mother, though, apparently wasn’t done.

“What about Turles?”

This, of course, got another cry of, “Ma!”

Goku tried not to giggle into his napkin.  His dad glanced at him and he rolled his lips in to hide his smile.  He didn’t enjoy putting his brother on the spot, but it was nice to have the heat off of him.

“You boys have been friends forever.  I always thought…”

“Keep thinking.  Jeez.” Raditz grumbled down into his plate and kept eating.

The rest of dinner passed with no further discussion of their love lives and, for that, Goku was glad.  As he ate, he watched his brother. Truthfully, he  _ did _ wonder why he and Turles were never together, but it was probably for the same reasons for why he and Chi-Chi weren’t together.  They were just friends.

After dinner, they began the work of clearing the table.  Raditz grabbed the plates and Goku grabbed the plastic cups that still had some kind of liquid in them.  Their father grabbed the napkins, utensils and anything unbreakable that was empty. They knew what to expect at this point.  Goku watched him nervously, always scared for him. Sure enough, right before he reached the sink, his hand spasmed and he dropped what he was carrying.

“Fuck!”

“I got it.  I got it.”

Their mother swooped in to pick up what he dropped while their father stared down at his hands in dismay.  Goku wasn’t sure what it was, but his dad always had spasms like this, every since he was a baby. He took medication for them, but it didn’t seem to help stop them.  Mostly, he hoped that they weren’t hereditary. He looked down at his own hands that so much resembled his father’s. Everything about him did. Maybe he would develop spasms, too.

Raditz joined her in picking up what fell while his father got his pills out of the cupboard.  Goku dumped his load of cups in the sink and grabbed the towel to help.

\--

Vegeta hated the antiseptic smell of the clinic.  He hated it before he had enhanced senses and he hated it more now.  The unrelenting white walls and buzzing lights only made things worse.  Even so, he was forced to come down here for every injection because Kakarrot’s baby ass couldn’t be trusted to inject at home so, for better or worse, he was used to it.

“Are you done yet?” he asked roughly.

His brother blinked at him and then smiled. “Nearly!”

Tarble still lived at home but Vegeta took them there most days when he was at base.  It was convenient for them both and, besides, he didn’t like the thought of Tarble on the train by himself.  He could pass out and someone could mug him--rip his medical bracelet right off so no one would know who to contact or why.

He leaned against the counter in the exam room as he watched his brother fill out paperwork.  His father hated that Tarble was an intern here almost as much as he hated the fact that Vegeta volunteered for the Saiyan program.  He had thought his father would be proud, but instead he had told him off, saying the program was bullshit and he was throwing his life away.  He called Tarble a “puppy dog,” and accused him of tailing after his brother when there were plenty of hospitals in the city. Needless to say, it made Sunday night dinners awkward.

The door to the room opened and Dr. Malaka walked in.

“Ah, Mr. Giardino, good to see you.  Faring well?”

He twisted his lip and then nodded. “Yeah.  I’m waiting for Tarble.”

“Sorry, sorry.  Nearly done.”

Dr. Malaka aimed a fond look towards his brother and said, “You know, Tarble is probably the best intern we have here.  Especially one with his...circumstances.”

Tarble’s cheeks reddened and he looked down at the clipboard in his hands.  Vegeta felt his mouth sink into a scowl. His brother worked hard and deserved what he got.  He wasn’t some “inspirational” bullshit story about overcoming difficulty.

“My brother’s a good intern because he’s going to make a good doctor,” he said gruffly. “Don’t bullshit him.”

Tarble lifted his head and a smile flickered back onto his face.

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Hmph.”

Vegeta turned his face away from him, letting him know the conversation was over.  Truthfully, he only dealt with Dr. Malaka when he met up with Tarble. Usually Dr. Planthor and Bulma did their injections.  Rarely, Dr. Brassica would show up, but that always made the usually reserved Broly bristle as if he were being mildly electrocuted.  Malaka wasn’t the one stabbing his leg tri-weekly, so he didn’t even pretend to be nice to him. Not that he tried much more with Planthor or Bulma.  Especially Bulma, given that she liked to call and text him at all hours as if they were friends. Right. Friends.

“All done.” Tarble turned his clipboard over to Dr. Malaka and grinned.

He bid his farewell (Vegeta may have grunted in his direction) and walked to the cubby where his wintergear was.

“Bad circulation day,” Tarble mumbled, shaking out his hands before stuffing them into his gloves.

“Anything else?” Vegeta asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing worse than usual.”

Tarble pulled his knit cap down over his forehead and looped his scarf around his neck.

“Ready to go.”

Vegeta wasn’t upset to leave the clinic by any stretch and certainly wasn’t mad about leaving base.  The best part about it was that the gym where they trained was open twenty-four hours and he had security clearance so he could work off excess energy if he got restless in the middle of the night.

“So dad’s letting up on me,” he said once they were on the sidewalk. “He said being an intern’s fine since I could do my residency at another hospital.  If I wanted.”

“Right.”

Mostly, when he and his father spoke, they didn’t bring up his involvement in the Saiyan project.  His mother said she was proud and his grandma said they prayed for his safety at her Novena group. His father, though, it was if he just  _ couldn’t _ support him or approve of him.  Bastard.

“Dr. Malaka says that I might get to inject the new recruits.”

Vegeta paused just short of the edge of the curb.  The walking man blinked and the hand appeared, already counting down.  Tarble glanced at the crosswalk and then back at him, distressed.

“What?”

“New Recruits?”

“Nappa’s giving them a tour tomorrow.  And if they pass the physicals and stuff...I get to jab the ones that make it.”

New recruits?  They were  _ just _ talking about unforeseen side effects and now they want to subject more people to this?  Fucking hell. Vegeta stepped off the curb with five seconds remaining and Tarble scurried after him in a bid to keep up.  Horns honked and he responded by flipping them off.

“You aren’t one of them, are you?”

Tarble shook his head. “Of course not.  You know I’d never pass the physical.”

He knew that, but he liked the confirmation.

“Good.  It’s hell.”

“I jab myself with a needle a lot, too,” he said.  Tarble tapped his gloved thumb along the tips of his fingers and gestured to his hips. “And that’s just because my pancreas hates me.”

Vegeta shook his head. “Not that part.”

“What, then?”

He looked at Tarble’s face, so earnest and kind.  He was going to be a doctor. He was going to help people.  He didn’t need his dick of an older brother telling him about weird side effects.  Didn’t need him worrying about him, either. He was invincible and Tarble was the one who people worried over.  Not the way Dr. Malaka wanted to use him as a poster boy for someone thriving while having dysautonomia and diabetes, but because he was his little brother and he didn’t like seeing him hospitalized.

“Nothing,” he said brusquely. “Do you want to go to that Lebanese place by the house?”

Immediately, Tarble brightened.

“Absolutely!”

\--

Broly felt the clench in his stomach he always did when he came back home.  Even on the train over, he felt the same anxiety, knowing that this was how he would come home in high school.  He saw the city bus he would take to school turn a corner and his back tensed. He avoided coming here when he could.  Usually, Kale would come to his place and spend the night or weekend.

He used his key first on the storm door and then walked across the screened in porch to open the door.  He paused for a moment to look at the couch that was on the porch, looking out onto the now currently dead ground where bits of snow still clotted on the brown, crunchy grass.  He didn’t have a ton of memories of his childhood, but he remembered coming out here at night, even when it was so cold that his fingers and the tip of his nose grew cold, and sitting on this couch, knowing it was better than going inside.

Broly walked inside and bolted the door behind him.  Took his shoes off to leave by the door even though he wasn’t planning on staying long.  At the sound of the door, Kale walked out of her room. She walked towards him, fingers trailing on the wood-paneled walls of their house.

“You found out,” she said quietly.

Quiet fell between them and Broly nodded.

“Why?”

Kale glanced away down at her socked feet.

“My friends,” she said, but Broly knew she probably mostly meant Caulifla. “I can’t let them do it alone.”

“Kale…”

It wasn’t peer pressure.  He knew as much Caulifla wanted Kale to go along with whatever dumb plan she cooked up, she would never force her into anything.  But he knew his sister would probably follow her into hell.

“Even if I’m useless, I’d feel better if I were there than watching them and worrying.”

She lifted her head and gave him a pointed look.  Broly chewed his lip. He knew that she worried, which was why seeing her name threw him off and thought their father was behind it.  He knew, though, that he couldn’t talk her out of it. That wasn’t why he came. He needed the reason and now there was just him having to deal with the aftermath.

It spread between them, a heavy feeling, and he didn’t particularly like it.  There were no brother-sister horror stories about him and Kale. Their arguments were usually restricted to who got control of the remote after dinner.  Very rarely, though, things would get like this. This heaviness in the air. Usually, it had to do with their father. When Broly first moved out, he thought their father was better now.  At least, better than he had been when they were children. Kale got to live out the idyllic teen years he was denied, but he knew the true hell was being alone with their father.

Their mother was long gone, moved to the beach on the other side of the country when Kale was a toddler and Broly was in elementary school.  Their father was busy at work and it was better when he wasn’t there. He would change Kale’s diaper, and carry her around, give her her bottle.  At night, she would cry to have her crib pushed next to his bed and he would watch her between the bars, sticking his finger through for her to hold when she cried.  He would stop breathing so she wouldn’t.

“It’ll be a while before you’re cleared for combat,” he said, but even he didn’t know.  Maybe they wanted to rush out the next wave of a recruits so it wasn’t just the five of them.

“I know.  It’s fine.  I. Would rather be prepared.” Kale fiddled with the rings on her fingers and said, quietly, “Don’t be mad.”

Broly shook his head.

“I’m not.  I’m.”

What?  Worried?  Powerless?  His palms felt hot and he wasn’t sure why.  He felt like he did with the punching bag, the feeling of pressure and the heat all over.  But it wasn’t directed at Kale. Vaguely, it was towards the apes. Vaguely towards his father, too.

Kale took a step forward and he hugged her tightly.  Knew if they were side by side in battle, he would use what experience he had fighting apes to help her.  She was his sister, the person who meant the most to him in the world. She was the baby he raised despite being only four years older than her.  He would stop breathing so she wouldn’t.

\--

Bulma could feel a headache forming between her eyebrows from staring at the screen.  She rubbed her eyes and then her temples and hoped what she was seeing would make more sense after she did, but no.  It was the same.

She had no idea how this could be the case.  She stared at the two monitors before her and the five files open across them.  Each one was a detailed record of each member of the Saiyans. There were general statistics like blood type and dates of birth.  And, at first, that had been kind of fun. Broly and Kakarrot had the same birthday, as it turned out, and Vegeta was a Scorpio.

_ Figures. _

But as she scrolled, Bulma began to notice some anomalies.  Abnormalities. She looked at the charts, at how they each took the serum and reacted to it and noticed definite differences.  Raditz and Turles seemed to react similarly to the serum. The levels in Kakarrot and Vegeta’s bodies were different, like they were reacting more strongly.  That seemed strange, since she wouldn’t relate it to genetics because, if that were the case, wouldn’t Kakarrot and Raditz have the same reaction? Broly reacted to it stronger than any of them, which was even more confusing.  They all received the same amount of the serum in the same intervals. There was no way Kakarrot, at least, would inject extra at home since it was like pulling teeth to get him to get his bloodwork and injections done at base.

Bulma nibbled on the bend of her thumb in thought, wondering what this could mean and what that had to do with these new side effects.  At least being impervious to weather wasn’t particularly severe. But what if there were more that they didn’t know about? She sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly.  She had a lot of hypotheticals and no answers. And these charts made everything worse.

“Hmm.  I guessed Raditz was around six-five.  Turns out I was right”

Bulma nearly jumped out of her skin.  She whipped her head around to see Dr. Gero behind her, a can of La Croix in his hand.

“When did you get here?” she demanded, suddenly feeling very seen.  She wasn’t sure why. Technically she wasn’t doing anything she wasn’t supposed to do.

“Just now.” He sipped his drink and then wrinkled his nose. “God I hate this shit.”

“Then why are you drinking it?” Bulma was glad for the distraction.

Lapis shrugged and tapped his finger soundlessly on its curved, aluminum side.

“My sister got it on BOGO so we have twenty-four cans of this crap that she said we have to go through it.  It’s overflowing our fridge and she said she was going to throw my bottles of kombucha over the fire escape if I don’t drink this instead.”

Bulma pictured his sister, the sardonic and disinterested records keeper at the base.  The only time she would perk up was when Kakarrot’s peppy little friend would come and pick him up on injection days.

“So what are you doing?” he asked and she cursed.

But what harm was there in telling him, really?  She was the one who brought Lapis here, after all.

“The boys mentioned weird side effects so I pulled up their charts to see how the serum affects them and...the results are weird.”

She gestured to the side by side charts of Kakarrot and Raditz to show the differences.  Lapis took another pull on his drink as he read it.

“Yeah, I’m a zoologist so I have no fucking clue what any of that says,” he said finally.

Bulma sighed.

“They’re all reacting to it differently and I don’t know why.  And these side effects. I haven’t changed the formula to the serum.”

“You might not have,” Lapis said. “But that doesn’t mean someone else hasn’t.”

Bulma furrowed her brow.  She hadn’t thought of that and the implication that someone was messing with  _ her _ work bugged her.

“There’s a lot of cloak and dagger shit here,” he continued. “Think about it.  Why are we the only city targeted by the apes? Where do they come from? Why haven’t we been working harder to find that?  Every time I bring it up, General Dodoria tells me to stick to finding more weak points. It’s strange, don’t you think?”

It  _ was _ strange.  Bulma drummed her fingers on her desk and sighed.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “But you’ve got a point.”

Lapis smirked. “I often do.”

To that, she had no response but to roll her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey Radi, wait up.”

Raditz stopped, one hand on the doorknob of their apartment.  He sighed, crossing his eyes tiredly as he did. Turles always did this.  He would wait until he was walking to the garbage chute with a bulging bag and bring him even more trash that he happened to stumble across.

“What?” he asked irritably.

Turles came up to him, surprisingly empty-handed.  He hitched his chin up so he could smile at him, eyes sparkling in that way that only his could.

“Lemme walk with you.”

That was surprising and it must have shown on his face because he laughed.

“I feel like we’ve barely spent any time together except at base.  I mean, we fucking live together.”

It was true enough.  Injection days and recovering from them...Raditz going to the labs to talk to Lapis.   _ Not _ that he had a crush on him.  Lapis  _ was _ cute if you liked slim, ethereally beautiful model types (which, okay, he did), but he was just glad to have another friend.  A friend who gave them good tips on how not to die against the apes, at that. Turles usually just went to the gym with Broly afterwards and they would go home and sleep off the rest of the injection issues.  Most recently, though, Raditz hadn’t felt  _ as _ tired as he had.  The dizziness wasn’t as bad either.  He was able to actually walk to a takeaway place rather than have it delivered to the security desk at the turn-in for base when he got lunch for him and Lapis.

“Make sure you have your keys,” he told him.

Turles jingled them in his pocket and gave an exaggerated wink.  Raditz had to roll his eyes. He was an incorrigible ham--which was funny considering that he didn’t even eat pork.  They walked to the end of the hall in a companionable silence. He could hear the muted sounds of television in their neighbors’ apartments and the shuffling sound of Turles’s slippers on the carpet, which he was wearing with a pair of heavy socks.  He always hated the cold.

“You know, there are other ways to hang out without walking to the garbage chute,” Raditz said.

“I know, but it’s too fucking cold to do anything else.” He shivered and glared in the general direction of the outdoors. “Fucking hate this time of year.”

Raditz always liked it.  He liked watching the snowfall from his window.  It was partially why he hated their new apartment.  The radiator and old a/c unit they couldn’t get out of the window took up too much space and the windows looked into a grubby alley and a brick wall.  He always felt trapped and claustrophobic, but it wasn’t like they had a choice. They made do. They survived. His father said they were good at that.

And now he had an apartment with his best friend paid for with a stipend for letting the government experiment on him.  And it  _ still _ didn’t look outside unless he sat on the fire escape.

Raditz opened the chute and stuffed the bag in.  Closed it and then opened it once more to make sure that it had fallen.  He turned and looked at Turles and even though he could hear muffled canned laughter from the apartment behind them due to his sensitive, enhanced ears, it felt like they were alone.

Sometimes he forgot Turles was a good deal shorter than him since his personality seemed so big, but he had to glance down to get a look at his face.  He could see the little divots in his skin from where he had piercings they made him take out when they volunteered. He still never quite got why he did.  Turles was staunchly anti-authority and had, in fact, argued against Raditz doing it. Saying that making sure his brother was alright was not a good enough reason to subject himself to government tests that might not even work.  But then he had come along and signed up. He fought with them.

Radit studied his face, a face he knew and had known for almost his entire life.  He knew where every scar and beauty mark was. Knew he never knew what to do with his head of messy curls.  But, somehow, he felt like he was looking at him for the first time. It was a weird, nearly claustrophobic feeling, like how he was in the apartment when they first moved there.  The hallway was suddenly too small. The laughter coming from the apartment too tinny and fake. Too loud.

“You alright, Radi?” he asked.

He nodded because he was so lost in thought that he couldn’t come up with words.  His best friend who decided to be in life or death fights with him. Turles balled his hand up in the sleeve of his sweater and thumped him on the arm.

“Then come the fuck on, I think it’s actually warmer in our apartment and I wanna order pizza.”

The moment, or whatever it was, had passed.  Turles was Turles again, his best friend, and they were going to go order pizza.

“Yeah, sure.”

\--

Caulifla’s first impression of the base was that it was ugly.  It was a hulking, grayish-green building that cut a blocky silhouette against the silver winter sky.  She fiddled with the visitor badge clipped to her jacket and gave a sideways glance at her friends. Mostly she looked at Kale.  She stood, loosely holding her shoulders and looking around the small foyer where they all stood. There were probably six recruits total and they all looked to be around their age.  Caulifla wondered if they were spurred on by a sense of justice or were they like her. People who lost family members in the attack.

Sometime she still woke up at night, her chest tight and her breath ragged.  Her brother, too, she could hear him through the thin walls that separated their bedrooms.  She had been thirteen and in bed when the house shook. When part of the roof crushed her brother’s leg.  When her parents--

She swallowed and shook her head to rid herself of the memories.  She was going to fight now. She was going to show those monsters.  No more orphans. Not because of the apes.

The man in front of them was huge, with broad shoulders that strained the heather gray t-shirt he wore.  It surprised her that he wasn’t in some kind of military garb, nor did he introduce himself with a rank. He just said his name was Nappa.

He  _ sounded _ like some guy out of an army movie, anyway, with how he read their names off of a clipboard.  He hesitated over Kale’s and looked at her, nodded, and looked back down. Caulifla figured that it had something to do with her brother.  Some of the other recruits who recognized the name looked towards her. Kale fidgeted with the rings on her hands and looked down. Caulifla stepped in front of her as best as she could to block their gazes.  She knew her best friend. Knew she hated being the center of attention.

“There are only a few places where you’ve got clearance to go,” Nappa said. “If any of you pass the physical and the other tests, you’ll get full clearance.”

Caulifla wondered what he meant by more tests.  She knew it would be more than a physical. Maybe they needed to see how they would be a in a battle simulation.  But where? In the city? She pictured something like the X-Men’s Danger Room burrowed somewhere in this compound and stifled a laugh.

They shuffled after him as a group and she made sure to stand close to Cabba and Kale so she didn’t end up by some rando.  They approached a set of double doors at the end of the first hallway. Nappa swiped his ID card and they swung inward automatically.

“This is the lab where we synthesize the different batches of the serum that gives the Saiyans their abilities,” he said.

Caulifla swept her eyes over the room and didn’t see anything special.  It was all long tables and different labeled samples and vials. Two scientists were hunched in the corner, watching something on a cell phone.  Nappa spotted them and exhaled a sigh of exasperation.

“This is Jaco and Chirai.  They’re lab assistants to Dr. Bulma Briefs who oversees this department and they are...watching  _ Drag Race _ right now.”

“Excuse you,” one of the scientists--a shrimpy-looking guy in a too large lab coat--piped up. “We’re watching  _ Dragula, _ not  _ Drag Race.” _

“Yeah,” the girl agreed. “They’re announcing season three soon so we’re rewatching.”

“I don’t care what they’re doing,” Nappa said, irritated. “I’m showing a tour and you two can’t even pretend to look busy.”

The guy shrugged.

“Bulma hasn’t told us what we’re doing.  But we got tests results back!” he exclaimed.

The girl took the earbud she was using out of her ear and skipped over to a computer.

“We ran over the formula for the serum we had before compared to it now and it’s totally different,” she said. “Much more powerful.”

Nappa cocked a brow.

“You changed the formula?”

“Uhm...no.  We figured someone else ordered it to be changed,” the guy said. “Dr. Brassica mentioned something about levels and immunities when I brought it up.”

Caulifla saw Nappa’s brow furrow and his mouth turn down at those words like he didn’t trust them.  It seemed, though, that they were done with the two lab assistants, because he turned to leave and they, like perfect little ducklings, had no choice but to follow him.

“Next stop is our one man team on ape research,” he said.

Nappa stopped and gestured at an open office door.

“Dr. Lapis Gero is a zoologist who worked as a park ranger on Monster Island in the south.  He studies ape behavior and spots their weak spots so the Saiyans can take them out more efficiently with as little property damage as possible.”

Or civilian death.  The Saiyans stopped that, too.  Evacuations were easier and apes could be contained, focusing their animal rage on the Saiyans rather than the fleeing masses.  It gave Caulifla hope.

Dr. Gero appeared in the doorway, leaning against it.  He wasn’t wearing a lab coat like Chirai and Jaco were and was dressed down in a pair of gray skinny jeans and an oversized sweater.  He looked like any guy she would see in a coffee shop, not a scientist at a military base. His sharp, pale blue eyes looked at them all and his lips twisted in a slight smile.

“Hello,” he said. “General Dodoria told me a tour was coming through today.”

He tipped his head to the side, allowing some of his shiny black hair to fall and hit his shoulder.

“Do you have anything to say about the apes?” Nappa prompted. “Or your research?”

Dr. Gero lifted his head and shifted his gaze to the much larger man.  His lips quirked again and he turned to face them.

“They don’t have a true weakness.  Their tails can be pulled to momentarily stall them but you need to have a good grip to hang on.  Their eyes and Achille’s tendons are somewhat effective, but it still takes a lot of effort. There is no solid way yet to kill them without putting yourself at extreme risk.  That none of the Saiyans have died yet is nothing short of a miracle.”

He spoke the words so matter-of-factly that even Caulifla felt a shiver go down her spine.  Nappa clenched his jaw for a moment and sighed.

“Thank you, Dr. Gero.  You may return to your research.”

He gave a laconic salute and disappeared back into his office.  Caulifla spared a glance to the other recruits to see them shifting nervously.  Kale was still staring at her boots and Cabba was twisting the unruly forelock of hair he could never control around his fingers.

“Who wants to go see the gym?” Nappa asked in a gruff voice. “The Saiyans should be training.”

That earned a more positive response and, as a group, they followed him once more.  Again, when they reached a set of double doors, Nappa used his ID card to get them to swing open.  Inside was a large, outfitted gym with a rubber, sound-absorbing floor. A mirror spanned one wall and weight training machines of every variety were present even if some were folded up and tucked away as they were not in use.  Several punching bags and punching dummies dotted the floor. There was so much to look at, she nearly wasn’t sure where to look first.

Of course, she recognized the five men inside the gym.  Everyone knew the Saiyans--they were the city’s saviors and practically celebrities.

“Boys!” Nappa called. “Recruits.”

Only one of them turned to look at them, a big goofy grin on his face.  He walked over, sweaty but not at all out of breath even though he had taken a break from wailing on a punching bag.

“Yo!  I’m Goku,” he said with a wave.  His grin faltered for a moment and he added, “Sorry.  I mean, I’m Kakarrot Son, one of the Saiyans.”

Another guy of a similar size and slightly larger build than him came up to drape an arm over his shoulder.

“No need to be formal.  Some of ‘em will be just like us soon.” He turned a winning grin that probably made girls who weren’t Caulifla swoon. “What’s up?  I’m Turles.”

Raditz, easily the broadest of the five of them, came over next.  Like the other two, he was sweaty but not out of breath. Was that a side effect of the serum?

“I’m Raditz,” he said. “Um--welcome?”

Turles laughed and elbowed him in the stomach.  The three of them all wore the same low-slung sweatpants and tight tank tops and she saw the two other girls in the group giggle at one another.  Cabba, too, bit his lip and looked away.

Kale looked past them only partially because she, like Caulifla, was a lesbian and the sight of sweaty, nearly naked man flesh did nothing for her.  She stared at one of the two who were still working out. Incidentally, the two remaining were the tallest and the shortest. Caulifla watched the short one as he did lat pulls at one of the weight machines, not even bothering to get up or stop.  Of course, Kale wasn’t looking at him. Caulifla knew Kale’s brother from the few times she went over to her place. Normally sleepovers and times spent together were at the apartment she shared with her own brother, Renso. From what Kale told her, Broly practically raised her even though he was only four years older.  He finally stopped and looked at them--no. Looked at Kale.

Slowly, he made his way over and lifted a hand in a wave.

“Hi.  I’m Broly.”

“They already know all of you,” Nappa said.  He glared at the one who didn’t join them and snarled,” VEGETA!  GET OVER HERE!”

The answer was gruff and simple: “No.”

Caulifla snickered into her hand and couldn’t decide if she liked him the best or the least.  If she passed this physical and Danger Room simulation (or whatever), maybe she could figure out which it was.

\--

The apartment was empty when Cabba let himself in.  He de-wintered himself, shoving his hat and gloves into the pockets of his parka and draping it over the back of the overstuffed chair in the living room.  The heat was on and he slapped his cheeks a little to get some feeling back to them. Their apartment was only on the second floor of the walk-up and, thus, the short, two flight walk didn’t really warm him up or get his blood going.

He walked to the counter where a sticky note was stuck to the menu for their favorite Chinese place.

_ On a date!  Hopefully won’t be late -- Dad _

Cabba let out a soft giggle at the fact that he signed it off.  He and his dad were the only ones living here. Who  _ else _ was going to leave him a note?  He let his eyes linger over the actual message and twisted his mouth.  A date. This was a recent development, his father getting back out there.  Without even trying to, Cabba let his gaze fall to the pictures still out on tables and on the walls.  The largest picture was the one next to the armchair, blown up and framed. A picture of him on his adoption day.  Cabba used to hate it as a kid because he thought he looked like one of the Cenobites from  _ Hellraiser, _ but now it just filled him with ache.  Back when he had two fathers.

He hadn’t gotten it, at first, when Leek-dad had to start going to the hospital.  When he lost weight and started wearing dark glasses even indoors. There were other people in the hospital, too.  Mostly men and a lot of them knew his dads. They would go to a church even though they weren’t remotely religious and visit the giant crystal.  There were names on there and Cabba didn’t know any of them until he did. Until more were added. Until, eventually, so was his father’s. Back when his dad stopped being Toma-dad because he didn’t have to differentiate them anymore in a cutesy little kid way.  Because there was only one dad left.

He shook his head and shivered despite the heat in the apartment.  Maybe it was good that his dad was dating again. It had been so long.

Cabba walked back to the half counter and looked over the menu as if he didn’t order the same thing over and over.  He pulled his phone out to order since the restaurant still only did carryout orders and they had to be called in. He didn’t mind it.  The place was only around the corner and it was definitely their favorite. Before he could unlock it, his phone began to ring and vibrate, his father’s picture flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“It was a bust!” he said, laughter in his voice. “The guy lied about his age because he wanted a sugar daddy.  He was your age.”

Cabba wrinkled his nose.  He and his dad were always open about everything (he remembered, vividly, coming out to him and having to convince him that, no, he wasn’t being unfairly influenced by him and being gay was just how he was), but he had to laugh.  Some kid thought age equaled wealth and one glance around their cozy but modest apartment would kill that really fast.

“Are you on your way back?” he asked.

“Yeah.  Have you ordered yet?”

Cabba fiddled with the corner of the menu.

“No.  Just got back.”

He didn’t want to say from where.  His father always had a strangely visceral reaction to the Saiyans and the last time Cabba had brought it up, he had gotten upset.  Maybe it was losing his partner and the possibility of losing his son. He had lost so many friends back in the nineties and then in the ape attack a decade ago.  He was worried, but--Cabba was an adult. It wasn’t like he could actually stop him. But maybe that scared him most of all.

“Cool.  Order for me and I can salvage this evening.” He laughed. “I’ll be there in about forty-five.”

“Got it.”

They said their “love you’s” and goodbyes and Cabba hung up.  He rang in their order and the person on the other line told him that it would be ready in about twenty minutes.  Twenty minutes before he had to talk around the corner and get the food and another twenty-five after that until his dad got home.  Maybe in that time, he could figure out what he was going to say about volunteering for the Saiyan program.

Nearly an hour later, as he heaved the plastic bag of takeout containers onto the table and he hadn’t thought of a way to bring it up.  He knew his father would be upset and he chewed his lip nervously as he took the cardboard containers out. He set the table as much as they did with this--chopsticks for him and a fork for his dad.  His father was able to use chopsticks but he suffered from occasional spasms in his hands that simply made a fork easier.

The door opened and his father came in, all grins.

“Hey Cab-Cab,” he said, using his childhood nickname that never left the confines of their apartment.

Cabba came and hugged him.

“You’re chilly.”

“It’s cold out.”

His father put his coat over where Cabba’s was and split a wider grin at the spread on the table.

“Oh, nice.  Perfect timing.”

Cabba nodded. “I know.  I’m the perfect son.”

It was said in jest but part of him wanted to remind his dad at how good he was before he told him where he was today.

They sat across from one another at the table that only had two chairs now.  When he was little, Cabba wondered why they didn’t move after Leek-dad died, but he knew now this apartment was rent-controlled and convenient to everywhere they frequented.

“I figure your day was better than mine,” his dad said as he served himself fried rice.

Cabba swallowed the noodles in his mouth and tried not to look guilty.

“Probably,” he said.

“What were you up to?”

He said it without suspicion and it made Cabba feel worse.

“Hanging out with Caulifla and Kale,” he said because it wasn’t technically a lie.

They had done substantial hanging out as they went through their physicals and passed the qualifying tests.  They were in. He was in. He had to come back in three days to get his ID. To get his injection.

“How are the girls?”

“Good.”

Cabba grabbed a fried dumpling with his chopsticks and crammed it into his mouth.  He chewed vigorously, not wanting to talk. His father looked at him, brow furrowed.

“What did you do today?” he asked, words slow and measured.

It hit him that he knew.  Cabba had no poker face on a good day.

“Um.”

“An old friend called me,” he said. “Saw my name listed as your emergency contact.”

Cabba gagged.  He pounded his chest with the side of his fist until the lump in his throat went down the right pipe.

“Those are supposed to be classified,” he blurted out.

“He’s not military,” his father said simply.  His grin was gone. “Cabba, I thought we talked about this.”

At once, Cabba felt like he was fifteen again, being told by his dad that he wasn’t allowed to go out past eleven in the city by himself.  He sank in his chair. He was twenty-three. He had graduated college. He was an adult, goddamnit.

“I know,” he said, trying to sound mature and not as childish as he felt. “But this is what I want to do.  I want to help people.”

“You can’t trust those people,” his father said sharply and then dug his fork down into the pile of fried rice on his plate.  Wiped a shaking hand over his face. “Cabba. I know saying I can’t lose you, too, seems like a cheap shot, but it’s true. I’ve already lost one of my boys.  I can’t...”

He trailed off and looked away.  Cabba chewed his lip again.

“Dad…”

“And I know how stubborn you can be when you want to be.” He sighed. “I can’t stop you, huh?”

He shook his head and he could see the hurt on his father’s face.

“Be careful,” his father said. “And not just against the apes.”

“What does that mean?”

His father shook his head, put his usual smile on his face. “Nothing.  Just the worry talking.”

Somehow, Cabba wasn’t convinced but he didn’t want to argue it.  Not when his dad admitted he couldn’t change his mind and he was going to let him be a Saiyan without a fight.  So instead of questioning him, he just put another dumpling in his mouth.

\--

Goku never really liked coming to this neighborhood on a good day and the holiday rush was making things worse.  Snow fluttered down from the sky, making everything glisten and it would have almost been pretty if everything wasn’t so chaotic.  The shopping district in the neighborhood where Chi-Chi’s apartment was had some interesting, unique shops where she was determined to find presents for.

“Jeez,” Krillin mumbled. “I feel like I’m gonna get trampled.”

Goku nodded.  Christmas wasn’t for another month and people were already acting wild.  He had no idea what he was getting anyone. Truthfully, he had a bad habit of waiting until the last minute.  More than once over the years, Chi-Chi would get him presents for his family and he would pay her back and thank her profusely.  She was always handling his stuff.

He watched her a little ways ahead of him, all but elbowing people out of the way.  She was small but mighty and he was glad she was on his side.

“God, I hate people,” she said, exhaling in frustration.

Goku drew closer to her in hopes that his slightly taller stature would stop people from mowing down his two shorter friends.  Krillin, at least, had an oversized Gortex coat on that made him wider even if it did nothing for his short stature. Chi-Chi was dressed in a red coat with a white hat and, quite honestly, looked like she’d be at home on one of those annoying Christmas movies she would sometimes make him watch.

“We should go,” Goku said. “It’s busy and, besides, it’s like dinner time and I’m starving.”

Krillin and Chi-Chi exchanged an amused look and he pouted at them both.  He had always had a big appetite and the serum had only amplified it. It was the same in the others.  Whenever they ordered group takeout to base, the order price always numbered in the hundreds.

Chi-Chi laughed. “I want to get something for your mom and there’s this really nice charity shop that has pretty scarves she’d like.”

They resumed walking, turning down a smaller street lined with shops.

“You don’t have to get her something,” he said like he did every year.

She shook her head and he knew not to argue.  Chi-Chi was incredibly stubborn. Krillin shifted his gaze between them and sighed.

“I’m going to that glassblower’s store to see if they have anything for my mom.”

Goku wondered what that sigh meant, but he didn’t have time to think about it since Krillin was already gone.  Chi-Chi fiddled with the strap of her cross-body bag, her cheeks a bit rosy from the cold. Goku didn’t feel it, thanks to the serum.  He wasn’t bundled up like everyone else, wearing only a light jacket. Every now and then, people would cast him curious looks, some tinged with recognition.  That bit was wild. People knew him, knew the Saiyans. Random strangers thanked him on the street.

“You think my mom would mind if I also got her a scarf?” he asked.

Her hands dropped from her strap and she reached out to pinch him.  He barely felt it with her gloves and through his jacket, but he made a big show of wincing anyway.  She responded by rolling her eyes and smacking him playfully.

“You need to get her something nice,” she said. “Like earrings.  Didn’t you say that your dad accidentally dropped a pair of hers down the disposal?”

Goku rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.  He was passing them to her and he had one of his spasms.”

He figured his dad would replace him since he felt so bad despite his mom’s assurances, but maybe he could get her a pair.

Chi-Chi lifted her booted foot to take a step towards the stores when a man darted by her.  He grabbed her bag and tried to pull it but she was wearing it across her body and all he did was spin her around and make her fall.  She caught herself on her hands on the icy pavement. The guy stood there for a moment, holding her bag, and then dropped it. He took off and, watching his retreating back, Goku felt something in him snap.  How  _ dare _ he hurt one of his best friends?  How  _ dare _ he be such a coward that he just runs off.

Before he was aware of what he was doing, he was on the run, chasing the guy down.  He caught him by the back of his coat and slammed him into the side of one of the shops.  Snow that had accumulated in the eaves fell around him, but he didn’t even felt it. A low rumble built in his throat.

He held the guy by his neck, his forearm pressed against it.  He saw the guy’s blue eyes widen in fright and he wriggled beneath his hold.  Goku pressed harder, feeling him try to swallow under the tensed muscle of his arm.

“Goku!”

Distantly, he heard someone calling his name.  It sounded familiar. Warm. Worried. Whose voice was this?  He grit his teeth and leaned in.

“Goku!  You’re choking him!”

A rippling murmur, more voices.  Gathering crowd.

“It’s fine!  Goku!”

The voice sharper now.  He blinked and saw the frightened man beneath his arm.  The heat in his chest was gone, the rumble gone from his throat.  Goku relaxed his old and the guy slumped to the ground, holding his throat.

“D-don’t purse snatch,” he said in a weak, pitiful voice.  Like he was in some after school special. But he couldn’t think of anything else to say.  The small crowd that had gathered began to disperse. Camera phones went off and he knew he would be hearing about this at his next appointment.

The guy nodded and, again, took off.  He turned to see Chi-Chi unhurt and standing there.  She had to be the one who called to him. He licked his lips nervously and chewed at a piece of dead skin there for a moment.

“Goku?” she asked, her voice small and scared and not at all like how it was usually. “Are you alright?”

Was he?  He forced out a laugh.

“Where was that place with the scarves again?” he asked.

Chi-Chi looked at him, unconvinced.  Well, that made two of them.

\--

Bulma scratched above her eyebrow in worry.  She didn’t have all of her new data, but the results of what Chirai and Jaco found was troubling.  On top of that, there was Kakarrot’s freakout. That sure got blasted online: Kakarrot Son, star of the Saiyan program threatening and nearly choking out a wannabe purse snatcher.

“You look tense.”

From anyone else, Bulma would have thought that this was someone showing their concern but, with Vegeta, he was probably just being a dick.  Or making observations in that blunt way of his that was always so frustrating. She lowered her shoulders and turned to face him, arms folded over her chest.

“Isn’t that what Planthor said about all of you?”

The boys were all in a mood after their appointment today.  Dr. Planthor had (possibly jokingly) said that they all needed “healthy outlets” for their pent up aggression and emotion, to which Turles had bluntly replied, “So, sex?”

Bulma personally thought that was pretty unprofessional, but looking at Vegeta’s permanently furrowed brow and scowl, he probably  _ could _ do with getting laid.

“Ha ha,” he said in deadpan faked laughter. “I don’t need that.”

“Don’t you?”

Bulma arched a brow, eager for a chance to mess with him.  She had been in a stressed out tizzy after finding out that the serum had been rendered more potent without her permission, that levels were higher and she was supposed to be the lead scientist, goddamnit!  Everything had been stressed out and she wanted this back. This easy back and forth where she messed with Vegeta and he messed back.

“No,” he repeated.

Somehow, he fell into step next to her heading to her lab rather than towards the gym with the others.

“When was the last time you even got laid?”

Vegeta frowned and she fought back a smile.

“Two weeks ago,” he said and Bulma was a bit startled.  She didn’t actually expect an answer from him.

“What?”

He jerked his chin back down the hall towards records keeping.

“Lazuli.  We met at a bar, made fun of our co-workers, and went back to my place.”

Bulma blinked once slowly and then twice more rapidly.

“You...and Lazuli?  Model gorgeous Lazuli?  Slept with you?”

He shrugged.  His scowl deepened.

“It was a one time thing.  And why is that so hard to believe?”

“Even so.” Bulma paused and tapped her lower lip. “I guess she has a thing for short guys.  She always almost smiles when Kakarrot’s friend comes by and she boned you.”

“I’m not that short!” he snarled.

For a moment, he sounded so angry that Bulma’s mind went back to the video posted all over social media of Kakarrot holding his arm to that guy’s throat, but--no.  This was a regular Vegeta temper flare. This wasn’t. Whatever that was. She laughed and he rolled his eyes. Bulma stopped in front of the double doors to her lab and worried her lip with the laminated corner of her ID.

“It’s weird, though,” she said. “That he reacted like that.  Kakarrot’s pretty laidback, isn’t he?”

Vegeta folded his arms and nodded.

“He is.”

His lips turned and she realized that he was as worried about this as her.  Bulma knew she had to make this lighthearted again. She reached out and bopped him on the forehead with her ID.

“Well, no matter.  Just go ahead and take Planthor’s advice,” she said. “Dumb as it was.”

He snorted. “You offering?”

Bulma let out a choked laugh. “Not in your dreams, Veggie.”

He looked at her for a moment before lifting his chin. “Good.”

\--

Turles watched Broly pull the furred hood of his olive green jacket over his head and sidled up to him.  Up close, he would really see how tall he was. He towered over all of them and there was definite growth in the breadth of his shoulders and expanse of his chest since they began training and taking the serum.

“Hey,” he said. “Wild what Planthor said, huh?”

Broly eyed him and lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“Yeah.”

“So…”

Turles screwed his mouth to the side.  Why was this difficult? He never usually had an issue with this.

“You wanna fuck?”

Broly stopped short of the gate and made a face.

“Why are you asking me?”

He scoffed.  Right. Why indeed?  Because he  _ was _ feeling pent up and restless, moreso than usual.  That Kakarrot’s little freakout got to him and he was worried about himself snapping like that.

“Why aren’t you asking Raditz?”

Broly turned and scanned his ID to exit through the swinging cheese grater and Turles stared after him in shock before fumbling to follow suit.

“Radi?  Why him?”

Keeping up with Broly’s long strides was difficult but Turles managed.

“I dunno.  You’re close.”

Turles pulled a face.  He came up next to Broly and waved his hand as if to dispel the thought from the air.

“Yeah, but we’ve known each other our whole lives.  It’s. It’s not like that.”

No matter what, he would never ruin his friendship with Raditz by fucking him.  He was his best friend, the reason he was here letting doctors poke at him with needles.  It didn’t matter what else there was.

“So why me then?”

“You’re gay,” he said simply, “and...honestly, the first time I saw you, I thought you were a snack.”

It was Broly’s turn to pull a face but then he shrugged. “Alright.  But you’ve got to buy me dinner first.”

Turles stopped for a moment on the chilly, dark sidewalk and then trotted to catch back up with him.

“That’s fine.”

Broly brought him to a restaurant on a side avenue near a gay bar Turles knew he and Raditz had partied at back when things were simpler.  The restaurant was only reached by walking down a narrow flight of steps and everything was dark and homey. He removed his jacket as they settled at a table and he looked across at Broly and it was nearly as though he saw him for the first time.  His hair was mussed up from his hood and the lighting in the restaurant played shadows across his face. Yes, this was definitely a good idea.

Turles ordered them both Kirins before he turned to look at him.

“Okay, let’s pretend we aren’t going back to your place to fuck after this.”

“My place?”

“You live alone, yeah?  Less roommate hassle.”

Broly fixed him with a look that he waved off again.

“Raditz is always watching baking shows and I have to say that one British dude with the perma-tan’s voice is a major turn-off when you hear it through the wall.”

Broly turned his hand out in understanding.  Turles found himself staring at his hands. They were big: big hands, big veins.  He wasn’t anywhere near as beefy as Raditz but he was much bigger than the stringbean he had been when this all began.

“Fair enough,” he said.

The server returned with their beer and Broly pointed to various small plates and full entrees that he wanted.

“You two eat free,” the server said. “For all the Saiyans have done.”

Turles tipped his glass to him, unsure what else to do, and placed his own order.

“Everything’s good here,” Broly said. “Although the carbonara is a bit dodgy.”

He wrinkled his nose. “This is a Japanese restaurant.”

Broly nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked around for a moment and then ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

“My sister and I come here a lot.” He paused, let his lips droop down. “This restaurant isn’t like.  A thing or anything. With you. I just like it and I can be kind of picky when it comes to food.”

His sister.  That frightened-looking girl on the tour.  Turles wondered how Broly felt about her volunteering.  He didn’t know much about him. Didn’t even know he had a sister until he saw him react the way he did to Nappa saying her name.

“Picky huh?” he asked because that was easier.  This was meant to be easy. “Like what?”

Broly took a sip from his beer and shrugged.

“I don’t like the taste of milk,” he said. “When I was a kid, I would get grossed out because the milk at school didn’t taste like the milk in my cereal.  I guess I never put it together that the cereal changed the taste because all other milk tasted weird, too, and I just gave up.”

Turles chuckled as he took a sip from his own glass.  Okay, that was kind of cute. Their food came and they ate.  Turles watched Broly eat, glad that he had made the request for dinner.  He loved taking his dates or potential hookups out to eat, regardless of the quality of food or the establishment.  He liked watching their mouths while they chewed, imagining that mouth on his skin. Broly ate almost messily and with eagerness.  Despite his claims about being picky, he plowed through everything he ordered quickly.

Their bill was waived, which made Turles glad because even the stipend they got for saving the city on a monthly basis couldn’t stand up to two of their appetites at once.

“My apartment is on this block,” Broly said. “Another reason I like coming here.”

The apartment in question was a loft above a deli that was only open for breakfast and lunch.  The stairwell smelled a bit like pastrami, but Turles didn’t mind it. The apartment itself was a loft, which made sense since he lived alone.  It was a bit of hipster flair with exposed brick and scuffed wooden floor. To get to his bedroom area, they had to scale a wrought iron staircase.

“I hate it here,” Broly said, “but my landlord owns the deli and they’re nice.  I just don’t like the apartment itself.”

He unzipped his coat and Turles did the same.  Tossed it in the same spot on the floor.

“I’m a top,” he said bluntly.

“Good.  I’m a bottom.” Turles paused. “Well, I’m a switch, but I like taking what I want more than giving.  So it’s easier.”

“Right.”

They were close in the dark.  Turles drew close to him and tilted his face up towards his.  Broly’s arms went around him.

The first kiss was tentative and he could taste the seafood he had eaten on his lips.  Taste the beer, too. Was it those enhanced senses again? Broly caught his lip between his teeth.

“Okay,” he said. “On the bed.  Let’s get on with it.”

It was so straightforward that Turles had to laugh.  He kissed him again and got down on the bed. Waved his still clothed ass in the air.

He felt the springs contract as Broly got on and grabbed him.  Kissed him fiercely in a way that was different from before. Different from his blunt responses.  Turles caught his face between his hands and kissed him back.

\--

In the long run, cookies weren’t going to do anything but Chi-Chi felt like she had to do something.  She had clearance, technically, because she was on the list of approved people who could pick Goku up on injection days.  Even so, walking into the base was kind of silly. She had to do  _ something, _ though.  Goku had been avoiding her ever since the incident with the purse snatcher.  That just wouldn’t do.

She walked in to the main lobby to get her temporary ID to go to the gym, mentally rehearsing what she was going to say to him.  She could just picture it. Raditz and Turles would already be digging into the Tupperware full of cookies while Goku looked at her in that pained way he did when he knew he messed up.  But she didn’t blame him. He didn’t actually kill that guy. He didn’t do more than scare him. He wouldn’t beat himself up, couldn’t freeze her out either.

Chi-Chi opened her mouth to speak, one hand going to her bag to get her wallet, but she never got the chance.  All around her, sirens began going off. Red lights swirled. The records keeper at the front, a blonde woman with sharp cheekbones, seized her arm.

“You have to say here,” she said, voice tense. “There’s been an ape sighting.  We’re on lockdown.”

Chi-Chi nodded, understanding.  She put her cookies down before her trembling hands dropped the Tupperware.  An ape attack meant the Saiyans were going to leave. A pit formed in her stomach as he thought about Goku going out there as it always did.

“You can sit here,” the woman said.  Let up on her arm. “Sorry about the grabbing.  You know what it’s like…”

She trailed off and said no more.  Chi-Chi got it. Every time the sirens blared.  It got dark so early now, too, in the winter. She chewed her lip.

_ Be safe.  Come back. _

**Author's Note:**

> as always, i'm down to talk on my tumblr: http://vertigoats.tumblr.com


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